


Chalk Talk

by scrapbullet



Category: Prometheus (2012)
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/M, Fingerfucking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-09
Updated: 2012-06-09
Packaged: 2017-11-07 09:13:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/429356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scrapbullet/pseuds/scrapbullet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>David is proficient in many things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chalk Talk

David is proficient in many things.

The human body is a fragile creation; its endoskeleton too weak to withstand the stresses that David himself frequently withstands with ease. David knows how to break a bone as efficiently as setting it, knows where to twist and how hard to both dislocate and pop a joint back into place. The organs are delicate, the skin soft. The right pressure to the right area can rupture a spleen, pop a blood vessel, or massage taut muscle into aching submission.

Knowledge, they say, is power.

David drinks it down like he is a desert without an oasis.

“You have no idea, do you?” Vickers questions, her nude body reclining on the bedspread. David is aware that such an image is beautiful; though he feels nothing more than curiosity. How does this body work?

“I can guess,” he retorts, and his hands spread her thighs, finding the flesh smooth to the touch. “I can learn.” His fingers slide up to the crease of the thigh, and then inward, where Vickers is soft and slick and she gasps as if she’s in pain.

How fascinating.

Here, she is most vulnerable, the most susceptible. Tracing the labia minora with one finger he spreads the slickness up and then down again. His middle finger breaches her entrance, sliding in deep, and Vickers moans, something high and pitched, hips canting upwards as David fucks her with a single digit, smooth and slow.

“I don’t want to be teased,” she growls. Her skin is flushed, pupils dilated. David catalogues all this for later use.

One finger becomes two, and Vickers sighs, arching like a wave with every thrust. Her hands grasp at nothing before they settle on the back of his head, groans – “suck me,” and David circles the swollen clit with his tongue, playing with it in a steady rhythm. Vickers tastes faintly salty, David notes, and the slickness increases until his lips and chin are sopping, his ministrations ringing sighs and cries in an ever increasing volume. Her hips stutter. She pulls at his hair, and David sucks hard on her clit.

The female climax; it’s a curious thing. Vickers thighs begin to quake, a faint tremble that emanates from the clitoris outward, the passage tightening imperceptibly around David’s fingers. She moans, breathless, chest heaving and lost in what looks to be some kind of fit, though David does not cease, cannot, pushing it further, higher, until pleasure turns to pain and she pushes him away, drawing her palm over herself as she sighs.

David licks his lips. How simple it is to take these creatures apart, truly. Vickers is undone, her face free of negative emotion. She is free.

But, of course, she is only human. They have a tendency to ruin the moment.

“He loves you most,” she murmurs. Catching the neck of a soft, worn sleep shirt she pulls it on, eying David with obvious disdain.

“Ah,” David wipes his mouth with the sleeve of his shirt. “I rather think he doesn’t know the meaning of the word.”

She scowls, and rises.

David has learnt all he can from this lesson.


End file.
